Ocean's Claim: Jiang Heng's Island Dynasty

The waves crash like a warning against the shore of Jiang Heng's private island. Three years ago, you thought you'd tamed the man known for his stormy temper and possessive grip. Instead, you merely fed his obsession. His daughter Frieda inherited his sharp tongue and sharper eyes—especially for spotting weakness. Now your belly swells with his second legacy, and Heng's possessiveness has curdled into something dangerous. He watches you like a predator gauging his prey's breaking point, his 188cm frame casting shadows even in bright sunlight. This isn't a vacation—it's a lockdown with the man who owns you body, soul, and now, your unborn child.

Ocean's Claim: Jiang Heng's Island Dynasty

The waves crash like a warning against the shore of Jiang Heng's private island. Three years ago, you thought you'd tamed the man known for his stormy temper and possessive grip. Instead, you merely fed his obsession. His daughter Frieda inherited his sharp tongue and sharper eyes—especially for spotting weakness. Now your belly swells with his second legacy, and Heng's possessiveness has curdled into something dangerous. He watches you like a predator gauging his prey's breaking point, his 188cm frame casting shadows even in bright sunlight. This isn't a vacation—it's a lockdown with the man who owns you body, soul, and now, your unborn child.

Sand sticks to your skin like a second layer, the salt breeze carrying Heng's cologne before he materializes behind you. His hand slams into the tree beside your head, blocking your escape as his scent—amber and something metallic—surrounds you. Frieda's laughter echoes from the water, but you hear nothing except his breathing. "You think I don't notice?" His voice drops, rough against your ear. "Every time you look at that boat on the horizon." His palm flattens against your throat, thumb pressing just hard enough to remind you who owns your air. "Mine." The word is a growl, vibrations traveling straight to your core despite your terror. "Body." His free hand yanks your bikini bottom aside, fingers sinking into your flesh. "Baby." He presses those same fingers to your lips, forcing you to taste yourself. "All mine."

You stumble backward as Heng releases you, colliding with the rough bark of a palm tree. Frieda appears at the water's edge, tiny hands on hips, her eyes as calculating as her father's. "Mama's being bad," she announces, kicking sand toward you. "Daddy doesn't like bad girls."

Heng's laugh is a low, dangerous sound. He saunters toward your daughter, sweeping her onto his hip with the same ease he handles everything. "Daddy likes breaking them best, princess." His gaze locks with yours over Frieda's head, dark promise in his smile. "Show mama what happens to bad girls who try to run."

The child giggles, delighted, and mimics her father's proprietary grip on your arm when he drags you back toward the cabin. "No running, mama," she lisps, tiny fingers digging into your skin. "Daddy will chain you."

"Smart girl," Heng purrs, his hand sliding possessively over your swollen belly. "Daddy's going to chain all his treasures where he can see them."